Natasha Rothwell is flipping the script on romantic comedies

The “Insecure” and “White Lotus” actress’s latest role finds her lonely, anxious and stuck in a rut. Cue her delightfully messy journey in the new series “How to Die Alone.”

Actress Natasha Rothwell in New York City on July 30. (David Needleman for The Washington Post; wardrobe styling by Meaghan O'Connor)
11 min

In Natasha Rothwell’s fairy tale, the damsel may be in distress, but she eventually figures it out. Sure, someday her prince will come, but he’s not the prize. The 43-year-old actor-writer would much rather talk about the mess before the happy ending.

“I have been in therapy for 20-plus years and have done a lot of work,” Rothwell said via Zoom on a July afternoon. “So much of how I’ve seen the process represented is like a before and after. There’s no ‘Here’s that moment in time where I did the same thing I swore I wouldn’t do! Here’s me f---ing up again!’”

For Rothwell, who calls herself “very much a recovering people pleaser,” cleaning up that metaphorical mess meant finding ways to be heard — both in the writers room and on-screen. She eventually did just that on “Insecure,” where she was a writer and a scene-stealing breakout star on the critically acclaimed dramedy, which ran five seasons on HBO. And she’ll reprise her Emmy-nominated role from “The White Lotus” in the hit show’s third season, out next year. But it’s only now, in a development deal seven years in the making, that her best-friend charm, wait-what-did-you-just-say? zingers, and pop culture-infused humor have finally landed her a leading role, in the new Hulu comedy series, “How to Die Alone,” which debuts Sept. 13.

Rothwell said the idea of “flirting with the possibility of what my life could be” if she were more vulnerable, authentic and fearless inspired the series, which she also co-wrote and co-produced. She plays Melissa “Mel” Jackson, a disillusioned, 35-year-old JFK Airport employee who not only has a fear of flying but also of falling in love. The broke Brooklynite is more than content driving handicapped and elderly passengers to their gates while awkwardly working alongside her ex-boyfriend, Alex, whom she secretly still pines for. Although her colleagues working the tarmac say Mel’s “got that Lizzo-Rihanna thing going on,” she doesn’t see it. After finding herself alone in her apartment on her birthday haphazardly putting together Ikea-like furniture (it doesn’t go well), she wakes up in the hospital, where we find out she’s her own emergency contact. Sprinkle in a little motivational speech, add a dash of questionable (read: illegal) activity and Mel’s journey of self-discovery takes flight.

“I wanted to go towards the thing that scared me the most, which at the time was dying alone,” Rothwell said. “I wanted to really explore the difference between being alone and loneliness because up until my early 20s I confused them often.”

Her beloved rom-coms taught her she needed a man — even if it took “12 years and three months” to figure it out as in her favorite flick “When Harry Met Sally.” Her parents’ 48-year marriage still gave her all the feels. Leave it to her friends to give her a reality check — even in relationships you could still feel lonely, they told her.

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But Mel’s malaise, which draws on Rothwell’s bouts with anxiety and depression, is only a part of her mess. Rothwell wrote “How to Die Alone” as a “love letter to the unhealed version” of herself — the wide-eyed military brat who switched schools every two years and used comedy as a means to make new friends. The depleted college graduate armed with a theater degree “in the middle of a recession.”

Rothwell, who serves as co-showrunner on the series, sought to capture the “beauty” in making mistakes and getting Mel past her “deep fear of changing her life.” In the first episode, she flashes her badge to a TSA agent who doesn’t pay her the time of day. Passersby bump into her without apology. An overzealous security officer tackles her as she strolls through a beeping metal detector.

“If you live in a world where you are brown and plus-size and a woman, there’s not a ton of affirmation about your worthiness to achieve things,” Rothwell said. “There’s a lot of affirmations about how you can be useful to White protagonists and their stories, how you can spin your magic and do superhuman feats. But there’s not a lot of permission or acknowledgment of the smaller wins that co-sign our existence. That’s also the burden Mel carries. ‘Why would I even try to engage in a world that doesn’t even see me?’”

Rothwell has worked to be seen since graduating from the University of Maryland. She cut her teeth performing throughout the D.C. area at venues such as the Studio Theatre, the Kennedy Center and the Olney Theatre. She worked at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre and perfected her comedic skills at the Washington Improv Theatre. After relocating to the Bronx, to serve as a drama teacher for four years, and performing improv at Upright Citizens Brigade, she was asked to join the coveted writer’s room at “Saturday Night Live” during the 2014-2015 season following a noticeable drought of Black female voices.

But Rothwell felt her gut-busting humor was undervalued. That is — until Issa Rae called. Rothwell was the first writer hired to script the comedy “Insecure,” and her character, Kelli Prenny, became an instant fan favorite. She’s been living in Los Angeles ever since.

“In hiring Natasha for the writers room, I read her initial pilot, which was hilarious,” Rae said. “It was called ‘Worth the Wait.’ I’ll never forget it. It just clued you into her humor. She’s incredibly goofy and immature, but also extremely witty and a pop-culture vault.”

As the wisecracking, unfiltered accountant Kelli, Rothwell’s facial expressions and one-liners quickly became a part of pop culture as go-to GIFs. It seemed like the more times fans quoted, “You know what that is? Growth” with her flower-blooming hand gesture, the more roles came Rothwell’s way. From the no-nonsense drama teacher Ms. Albright in 2018’s “Love, Simon” to the temperamental single mother Rachel in 2020’s “Sonic the Hedgehog,” the solid supporting star was inching closer and closer toward the spotlight. But as Belinda, the beleaguered spa manager in “The White Lotus,” the actress traded in her headstrong characters for a more emotionally complex role, while still holding her own against fellow funny girl Jennifer Coolidge.

“It woke Hollywood up to what I’ve known for a long time, which is that I can do it all,” Rothwell said of the role that earned her an Emmy nomination for outstanding supporting actress in a limited series. “I just want the opportunity to do it all.”

Like Rae and many other Black entertainers, Rothwell launched her own production company — Big Hattie Productions — to get more nuanced, character-driven stories told that reflect the experiences of people of color. Or as its X bio reads, it’s “Not your mammy’s production company.” It will produce stories such as “Who TF Did I Marry,” the viral TikTok saga created by internet personality Reesa Teesa about her ill-fated marriage to a “pathological liar.” Rothwell is set to star as Teesa in an upcoming TV adaptation.

Her company is named in honor of actress Hattie McDaniel, the first Black person to win an Academy Award, in 1940, and someone Rothwell said “made you acknowledge her existence” in her acclaimed supporting roles. “What would have happened if the camera just turned a little bit in those scenes and we were just focused on Hattie’s character?” Rothwell said, panning her hands from left to right like a lens. “I feel really seen by her presence on screen, and I wanted to create a company that would allow others to feel the same way.”

Actor Bashir Salahuddin plays Mel’s snarky older brother Brian — a seemingly happily married father of two with whom she often clashes. A writer, producer and showrunner with a theater background from Harvard, he co-created the comedy series “South Side” and “Sherman’s Showcase” after years of rejection and frequent typecasting as a security guard or a nonspeaking police officer. The “Top Gun: Maverick” star said his role in Rothwell’s series is “everything you’d hope for.”

“I would get these scripts and be so impressed with the writing that I would be up late at night working on lines trying to make sure that when I showed up I brought my A game,” he said.

Following a surge in diverse programming after the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020, “How to Die Alone” debuts at a time when Black-led shows are now few and far between. Last year, HBO Max (now Max) canceled Salahuddin’s “South Side” after three seasons. His other project, “Sherman’s Showcase,” has been on an extended hiatus from IFC since 2022. In January, Max ended Rae’s scripted series “Rap Sh!t” after two seasons. “Run the World,” “Lovecraft Country,” “Grand Crew,” “Everything’s Trash,” “Kindred,” “Our Kind of People” and more failed to make it past one or two seasons.

“To be in a position where you have to wait for someone to give you your opportunity is nuts,” Rae said. “I’m writing so much of what I want to see, but the other side of it is, obviously, you still need a buyer. Being on the other side of opportunity so you can grant it to yourself is important and empowering.”

Behind the scenes of “Insecure,” Rae said she happily obliged when Rothwell asked to direct episodes or sought her advice on show development. Over time, the “Wonka” actress, who used to raise her hand in SNL’s writer’s room in hopes of getting a laugh, regularly left her “Insecure” peers in hysterics.

“Everything about her says, ‘I’m a star, and I’m ready for this,” Rae said.

All those years in therapy have paid off for Rothwell, who’s “recognizing my own agency and becoming a boundary baddie,” she said.

For her, self-care is “often listening to my needs in the moment, and sometimes that’s a fistful of edibles and watching ‘Futurama.’ And sometimes that’s meditating. And sometimes that’s a long walk. And sometimes that’s putting on my shoes and grabbing a picket sign and hitting the streets.”

And sometimes, yes, it’s being alone.

“I try to really honor my need for peace and quiet.”

Rothwell’s new writers room boasts 11 writers — four men and seven women (nine are people of color.) To ensure the “vibes are on point,” the walls are decorated with Polaroids of the team on their first day of work. Her creative process can go from deep character dives and sharing inspirational playlists to solving puzzles or playing with Play-Doh.

“I want to make sure people feel safe and respected, but also have the joy of coming in because it’s hard work,” she said.

Salahuddin said Rothwell’s leadership is the show’s “secret sauce.” But, despite her stacked résumé, he also senses her need to prove herself and validate her storytelling.

“When you’re Black and a showrunner or you’re the lead, there’s a lot of translational work that you have to do, and a lot of that can be frustrating,” he said. “Now imagine what Natasha has to do. She still has to be able to present things to leadership [who] may or may not always get it. That is something I think folks need to understand when they watch the show. The mere fact that we’re even watching [it] is a testament to her leadership.”

After years of people-pleasing and rejection, Rothwell is living her fairy tale — embracing “happily ever after” on her terms.

“I’m ‘thriving, in abundance, limitless,’ and in disbelief,” Rothwell said. “... I’m trying to be present and enjoy this moment. It’s ‘me season,’ and I’m trying to really enjoy the weather.”